Page 115 of After We Fall

I touch my lips, remembering the New Year’s Eve kiss. A dance-floor kiss full of tender passion. A good-night kiss at my door full of heartfelt promise. “The best is yet to come, kitten. Happy New Year.”

A tall, lanky man, dressed in full cowboy attire complete with handlebar mustache, approaches Meredith and me. With the gray at his temples and a story he relayed in the service about a trip with Robert to Costa Rica thirty years ago, I’m guessing he’s in his mid-sixties. He nods to us. “Ladies. I’m not sure how you knew Robert, but my condolences to you both. I’m Vance Holland.”

He offers a handshake, and we introduce ourselves.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say. “We didn’t know him personally. Luke Granger is a friend of ours and we’re here to support him.”

Understanding crosses his face, then a grimace. “Ah. Luke. This must be hitting him hard. I was only privileged enough to travel with Robert the one time.” He holds up his ring finger, showing a scuffed, wide silver band. “I thought I was going to travel the world with Robert until my Marcy came along and swept me off my feet. She wanted to start a family immediately and said it was either her or Robert. Well, the fact is, Marcy’s prettier than Robert.”

That’s our cue to laugh with him, but something in his words thunks in the pit of my stomach.

“We settled in Montana. She gave me five sons. I got to send three of them on trips with Robert over the years. They couldn’t be here today, but if they had been, they’d tell you that what Robert did for them on those trips to grow them into men was more powerful than what he did for the local population they were trying to serve.”

Vance’s words are thick, and he pulls a yellowed, folded handkerchief out of his back pocket and wipes his nose. When he returns it to his pocket, he looks back at us. “Sorry. I guess it will get to me for a while. There’s nothing like a man who builds into your sons and helps them become the men they are today. One of them is finishing up college and wants to join Luke and pick up where Robert left off.” His voice garbles, and he shakes his head, murmuring “Sorry” as he again reaches into his back pocket.

Join Luke and pick up where Robert left off? What does that mean, exactly? Instead of the pit in my stomach feeling heavy, now it churns.

This marks the fourth person today who has commented about Luke’s travels with Robert. One man flat out couldn’t believe that Luke was in town for the funeral because, in his words, “Catching Luke in town is like catching a foul ball at a Rockies game. It happens to other people, but never to me.”

Just as Vance makes his exit, Harlan stops in front of us with Tanya and Bianca in tow.

“It’s time for me to take all my ladies home,” Harlan says.

“You mean, it’s time for me to go home because I’ve been out of the house for too long,” Meredith says under her breath, out of earshot of the girls. She hasn’t shared her pregnancy news with them, and her comment makes me think Harlan is keeping close tabs on Meredith’s activities.

Bianca moves in front of Harlan to offer me a hug. The embrace is stilted. A month passed after her arrival at the ranch before she touched anyone. Today’s embrace is progress.

“Thank you for coming today, Bianca,” I say. “It means a lot to Luke that you’re here.”

“It’s what family does,” she says.

Family.

In the wake of Robert’s death comes a miracle. Bianca, a woman wounded by every man she’s ever let get close, declares Luke family.

Meredith is the final hug of the group. When her arms go around me, she whispers, “Lean in. Hear what he has to say. Tell him how you feel.”

I pull back. “He’s deep in his grief, Meredith. Do you really think this is the best time to do this?”

She shoots a look at Luke. “I’m not sure what’s best. You’ll know when the time comes. But here’s what I do know. I hid behind my grief for four years before I came to terms with one of the most painful lies I had been telling myself my entire life. A lie that had nothing to do with my loss. Sometimes we need the hard truth to be able to move forward.”

“I don’t want to scare him away. I don’t want to lose him.”

“I know. But your actions, even if they’re perfectly planned and executed, can’t control what he will do.”

Even if I’m perfect, I could lose him. “What do I do?”

“You take a risk.”

I don’t even know what that means.

She smiles as if she knows what I’m thinking. “Sometimes risking is hardest for those who are intelligent, capable, and independent. It requires letting go of the results.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It’s not.”

I rub the scar at my eyebrow. My neurofeedback treatments are infuriating because I can’t control the outcome. I’m only allowed to look at a screen and let my brain learn the rest.